Zhan's POV
Wang hasn't come to see me. Not once. Neither did Cheng. And honestly... I don't blame them.
I don't even know how I feel about myself anymore. Everything feels heavy, my body, my thoughts, my heart. I sit in this cold, quiet cell and stare at nothing, thinking about nothing, because even my mind doesn't want to be mine anymore. It's easier to shut down. It's easier to stop caring. To stop hoping.
My reflection in the scratched metal sink looks like a stranger, eyes dull, skin pale, lips cracked. I used to care about how I looked. Used to smile. Used to believe in better days. Now? I'm just... here. Existing. Waiting.
Waiting for what? A verdict? A miracle? For Wang to burst in and say everything will be fine? That the world hasn't completely turned against me?
That would be nice.
But I don't believe in nice things anymore.
There's a hole inside me where confidence used to live. Where dignity once stood proud. Now it's just dust and silence and shame. Even if I'm innocent, even if they know I'm innocent. I don't think I can come back from this. I feel... tainted. Like even my truth is too dirty for anyone to want.
I curl up on the thin mattress, turning my face to the wall. The stone is cold against my skin, grounding in a way nothing else is.
If Wang doesn't come... I'll understand.
If no one comes... I already have.
Three days later, the guard came to my cell, saying I had a visitor. My heart skipped, Wang, I thought. Maybe he finally came.
I was right... and I was wrong.
Wang's mother stood beside the glass, her heels clicking sharply on the floor as she took a seat across from me. Her expression was calm, but not kind. Calculated. She didn't even pretend to smile.
I picked up the phone on my end of the glass partition, and after a heartbeat, she did the same.
"Hello, ma," I said quietly.
"Zhan," she replied, eyes sharp as ever. "You look... well, as expected."
I didn't respond. There was nothing to say. Her gaze swept over me with mild distaste, like I was a problem she was tired of fixing.
"I'm here to offer you something," she finally said, leaning forward slightly. "Freedom."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I can make this all disappear," she continued smoothly. "The charges, the media, the swamp, everything. I can pull strings you don't even know exist. You walk free."
I stared at her, wary. "Why?"
She tilted her head. "Because my son is foolishly attached to you. And I don't want his life ruined."
I swallowed. My throat felt dry.
"There's only one condition," she said. "You leave him. For good. You tell him it's over. No dramatic goodbyes. No letters. No looking back."
I felt my chest tighten. "You want me to break him."
"I want you to save him," she snapped. "He's still salvageable. With Lusi, with a future. Not with you. Not with this... stain on his name."
I looked down at my hands. They were trembling.
"Think about it," she said coolly. "Your freedom... or his ruin."
She hung up the phone before I could answer.
I was led back to my cell in silence. I didn't ask questions anymore, no one ever answered them. I wasn't even sure why I was in prison rather than the police station. Nothing made sense. Time passed in a blur of numbness, like I was stuck in a nightmare I couldn't wake from.
That night, just as I was dozing off on the cold, thin mattress, the sound of the cell door scraping open jolted me upright.
Three men stepped in.
They weren't wearing uniforms. Their faces were calm, but there was something in their eyes, something that made my stomach twist.
One of them crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "You had a visitor today," he said casually like we were about to have tea.
I didn't answer.
"Mrs. Wang," another added, stepping closer. "She made you an offer. A good one."
I clenched my jaw. My heart was already racing.
The third one smiled without warmth. "You didn't say yes. That's a problem."
I stood, my back pressed to the wall, but they weren't interested in threats. They weren't interested in talking anymore.
"You say yes," the first one said, cracking his knuckles. "Or we beat the love right out of you. Every night. Until your pretty mouth figures out the right words."
I didn't speak. I just braced myself.
The first punch landed on my ribs, fast and brutal. I grunted, stumbling to the floor. A boot followed. My stomach. My shoulder. My thigh. Another hand grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, a fist crashing against my jaw.
"You're just a stain," someone hissed. "Say yes next time."
By the time they left, I was coughing blood and curled up in the corner, shivering.
I didn't cry.
I didn't scream.
But something inside me broke just a little more.
I didn't sleep that night.
I couldn't.
The pain throbbed in waves, my ribs, my back, my face. Every breath felt like I was inhaling fire. I tried to sit up but gave up halfway, collapsing back onto the floor with a wince. My lip was swollen, split open, and I could still taste the iron tang of blood on my tongue.
I kept replaying what they said.
"Say yes next time."
But what exactly was I saying yes to? Giving up Wang? Pretending like he never meant anything? Erasing him from the few good memories I had left?
I closed my eyes. For a second, I imagined his voice. Gentle. Stubborn. Warm. I imagined his hands wrapped around mine, promising we'd figure it out. That he'd fight for me.
But he hadn't come.
And that hurt more than the beating.
My body ached, but my chest, my heart, it felt empty. I was starting to forget what safety felt like. What trust felt like. It was all slipping through my fingers like smoke, and I couldn't even hold on to the reason I'd kept going.
Was I still worth fighting for?
The guards walked past my cell like nothing happened. No glances. No concern. It was like I didn't exist.
By morning, I was still on the floor, too sore to move. Someone slipped a tray of food through the bars, and I just stared at it. My stomach twisted, not from hunger, but shame. Shame that I was even still here. That I had believed things could get better.
Maybe I was just a burden. A mistake. Someone who made things harder for Wang.
Maybe saying yes wouldn't be so bad after all.
The days blurred together like smudged ink on wet paper. I didn't know what time it was anymore, only that light came and went, and with it, another round of beating and loneliness settled deeper into my bones.
I missed them.
God, I missed them.
I missed Grandma's voice, soft but firm, always knowing what to say when everything else felt like it was falling apart. Her prayers, her warmth. I could almost hear her calling my name, the way her hands would rest on my head when she thought I was asleep. She always made me feel safe like nothing in the world could hurt me as long as she was near.
Ji Li's laughter echoed in my head sometimes, wild, carefree, the kind of joy I hadn't heard in forever. And Mia, always dramatic, always fierce. She would've fought the guards with her bare hands if she knew what was happening. I imagined them pacing, waiting for news, whispering about me like I was a story they were afraid to finish reading.
I felt like a ghost in their world now.
And then there was Wang.
I'd wake up thinking of him, and fall asleep with his name on my lips. He wasn't just my husband. He was the first person who ever made me feel seen. Really seen. When he looked at me, it was like I wasn't broken. I was whole.
But he hadn't come.
Each passing day without him carved a new hollow into my chest. Did he change his mind? Was he safe? Did he believe I'd done all the things they were saying?
I curled up on the thin mattress, clutching the edge like it was his hand.
"I miss you," I whispered into the darkness. "Please... don't forget me."
The next two weeks dragged on like a slow death.
Every day blurred into the next. Same cold cell, same stale food, same aching loneliness. No visits. No calls. Nothing. I kept thinking maybe today Wang would come, maybe Cheng would find a way through, but it never happened.
And every night, like clockwork, the three men came. They didn't always beat me. Sometimes they just stood there, taunting, breathing down my neck like wolves circling their prey.
Tonight, they were back.
"You're stubborn," the tallest one said, crouching near the bars. His voice was like gravel scraping against metal. "Two weeks, and you still haven't agreed. What's wrong with you?"
I sat up slowly, wincing as pain shot through my ribs. My face was healing, but I could still feel the bruises blooming under my skin.
"You think he's gonna save you?" another one sneered. "Boy's out there living his life while you rot in here. You're nothing to him."
Their words cut sharper than their fists ever could.
Still, I shook my head, blinking against the light. "I can't," I whispered.
The third man, the one who hadn't spoken much until now, leaned closer. "Why?"
I laughed dryly, a weak, broken sound. "Because I love him," I said, voice cracking on the last word. "I love him. That's why."
For a second, the room was silent except for the buzz of the old fluorescent lights overhead. Then the tall one cursed under his breath and slammed a fist against the bars, making me flinch instinctively.
"Stupid," he spat. "Love doesn't mean anything here."
Maybe he was right.
Maybe love didn't matter in a place like this.
But it mattered to me. It was the only thing keeping me breathing. Even when everything else was gone.
And so, I stayed silent, hugging my knees to my chest, praying for a miracle I was starting to doubt would ever come.